


A Game of Circles: Season 2

by Mendeia



Series: A Game of Circles [2]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: But they're still spies so there are many secrets, By which I mean a tag for literally every episode, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Epistolary (sometimes), Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode of season 2.





	1. S2E1: Human Traffic

G was awake at dawn, staring up at a familiar ceiling from his sleeping bag as if he were fourteen years old again. Except this time, he wasn't in a temporary bedroom listening to the sounds of a temporary family. This was his house now.

_His house._

He never could tell if he wanted to hug Hetty or chuck things at her head – maybe both at the same time. There was no other person in the world who would go so far as to take his money out of his accounts and buy him a house. Let alone do so without consulting him.

And no other person he would have accepted it from, either.

In the morning light, the colors of the house were different from what they had been the night before. The dawn-gold sunlight was much brighter than the evening sunset orange. It was more like the morning in the bullpen, where the evening sunset light was the same warm shade as the lamps in Hetty's office.

G started walking the empty floors of the house again, stepping on every floorboard, running his fingertips along the walls and doors and windows. He tried all the sinks, listening to their sounds, timing how long each one took to go from stone cold to scalding.

He was circling back to the front when he heard the slightest scraping sound from the porch. Curious, he peeked out a window.

Hetty was just straightening up. She looked at him through the window and gave a little smile, then turned to walk down the front path back to the street.

For a moment, G considered calling out to her. Maybe even chasing her.

She had given him a home, and now she had given him a house.

But he held still. If she had wanted to share this moment, this first morning, with him, she would have knocked. Hetty always did what she intended, and she clearly intended on leaving him to settle into his place on his own terms.

However, she had left him something.

He watched her long enough to see her get safely in her car – there weren't generally a lot of muggings in this neighborhood, but anybody who raised a finger to her was going to lose it and the hand attached to it – and then pulled open his front door.

Two boxes sat side by side, with a basket in the middle.

The basket was, of all things, a fruit basket. There was no card, just the fruit, but G didn't miss that it was all the fruit he tended to like and not the generic mixes that always included stuff he wouldn't eat unless he'd been starving in a Moroccan prison for more than a week.

The label on the left-hand box showed that it contained a set of cameras and a full, hardwired security system. G recognized the brand; it was the same Hetty used for one of her smaller houses.

The right-hand box held a wall safe.

G laughed.

Leave it to Hetty to not only buy him a house, but help him stock it with the essentials. Not furniture, or art, or knick-knacks, or linens. She didn't try to make his home look like other homes, not even like her own. She didn't try to fill up the empty quiet space which made him feel like he could breathe.

Instead, she fed him, and she protected him, and she helped him keep his secrets.

Because of course she did.

G carried in the boxes and the basket, and set about figuring out which wall or floor he was going to cut apart. He'd have to get Sam to lend him some tools so he could hide the safe correctly.

And it might hurt, he realized after a moment, to break an unbroken wall or rip up a smooth, steady floor.

But as much as this house represented his past, it could also represent his future.

Callen decided he was going to be all right with a little renovation after all.


	2. S2E2: Black Widow

Hetty was going through the Wardrobe department when she found the green smock Callen had worn in the supermarket while posing as part of the hit squad. She wasn't even sure when he had gone back to get it, or if he had, for some unfathomable reason, carried it with him into the crisis.

Knowing him, it could be either.

Still, she didn't expect they would actually need a supermarket-branded green apron. And he had hug it on one of her best hangers, the heavy wooden one which could actually hold and keep the shape of some of Sam Hanna's more expensive outerwear.

Even if she was keeping it, such an item didn't rate better than a plastic hanger.

When she picked it up, she realized there was something in the front pocket that made it much heavier than expected, bulging a bit.

If it were anyone else, she might have been concerned there was a weapon left behind, or a bit of unfiled evidence. She might have been cautious. However, this was Callen – so whatever it was, it was harmless (though possibly irritating; the boy hadn't grown out of his pranks, after all) and it was not related to the case. And he knew perfectly well what she would do to him if he ever left a weapon in a place like this.

Bracing herself, she reached in to pull out whatever he had intended for her to find.

To her surprise, she found a spun-glass dragonfly, the sort that was meant to be stuck into the dirt of a potted plant. It was vividly dark green in color with purple and red accents, and its little jeweled eyes were blue.

Hetty shook her head. It was the sort of thing sold in florist shops – and in the garden center of a supermarket.

But she was absolutely, unquestionably certain that Callen had not had time to purchase such an item, either before, during, or after the operation. Which meant he had most likely stolen it while undercover.

"Oh, that ridiculous boy."

She ought to impale the little dragonfly's sharp spear right through his favorite couch cushion or throw blanket, perhaps teach him a lesson about stealing and about focusing on the job all at once.

She ought to order him to take it back to the store like a chastened child.

Hetty sighed. She was going to do neither, of course.

And her exasperation was very much worth the charmed expression on his face when he next entered her office and saw it sticking out of one of her plants.

She gave him a look, though. "No more secondary missions without authorization, Mister Callen."

"That wasn't a mission, Hetty," he said, eyes alight and particularly boyish. "It was...a gift."

"Well. I can see that. Thank you. Now, back to work, and don't do it again."

Of course, he didn't promise any such thing.


	3. S2E3: Borderline

Hetty walked up the stairs to stand with Callen after Nate left again.

"How come you didn't tell us where you sent him?"

"You should really ask him that yourself," she said.

"Nate wouldn't tell me even if I got Sam to sit on him. He'd just go on about how it was a normal assignment and he needed to be able to do this on his own."

Hetty nodded, approving. "Which he does."

They fell silent for a while.

"I'm not going to ask how you found out where I sent him," Hetty said at last. "And I wish I were surprised, but I'm genuinely not."

"You shouldn't be." He smirked. "You trained me."

"Indeed I did. And between the two of us, we trained Nate. Which is why I would like to ask your opinion." She turned to him, meeting his gaze. "Do you think I made the right decision?"

G considered the question carefully before he answered. "Nate...is courageous and idealistic. He's also one of the smartest guys I've ever met when it comes to reading and understanding people, even total strangers. He gets blind spots around the people he thinks he already knows, but when it comes to assessing bad guys or maybe-not-bad guys, there's nobody better."

Hetty nodded. "All true."

"But he's never really been in the middle of something like this. He's never had to be there in person to watch bullets tear through flesh and blood seep into the sand."

"That," and she let out a breath, "is what I'm afraid of."

"But the thing is," Callen said, "I think he can handle it. And I think none of us could really know how much he can handle until he tries. It wouldn't have been my first choice of a deployment for him. He's out there with no backup and no friends on the ground. But...if he can get through that? He can get through anything."

Hetty nodded.

Callen tipped his head. "And that's why you chose it, isn't it?"

"Yes. As well as because he truly is needed there. Our men and women in the field have so many enemies and so many false allies. Nate is the sort of person who could make the difference in some of our children coming home." Hetty cleared her throat. "It's the best decision for those soldiers. And it is the best decision for Nate's career."

"But you're not sure if it was the right decision for Nate."

Hetty's eyes wandered out to the open floor below. It was empty, everyone else long gone, but there was the memory of the people who walked it every day, who filled up its silences and its shadows with sound and life.

"In the end, we never do know if our decisions are right. We only know if they lead to pain. And I dearly hope this is not one either of us has cause to regret."

"I don't think it will be," Callen said. "And besides, if it is, we do know a damn fine psychologist."

"Yes, yes we do."

They sat in companionable silence for another moment before G spoke.

"But I do want you to promise me something, Hetty."

"What's that?"

"If Nate gets in trouble, real trouble, you'll tell us. And you'll send us to get him out of it."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She smiled. "That is not something you need worry about. If Nate is in trouble, rest assured that I'll be the first one on the plane."


	4. S2E4: Special Delivery

"You could have helped them," Hetty told G in a quiet moment while Eric, Kensi, Deeks, and Nell were throwing balloons at each other under Sam's watchful eye.

Callen shrugged. "They didn't really need help."

"How long did Mister Hanna and Miss Blye badger you for input about a potential gift?"

"I've been grilled worse than that."

Hetty shook her head. "But when Miss Jones asked you for a suggestion, you gave it willingly." She eyed him. "Were you playing your teammates, or showing kindness to the newest face in our house?"

"Eh." He leaned on the nearest wall. "Maybe a little of both. Sam and Kensi were so worried about doing the perfect thing for you. They were stressing about it. Nell just wanted to do something nice. She's been going back and forth with Eric ever since she got here, so I figured I'd give her a break."

"Yes, I too perceive a certain overlap of personalities there." But Hetty was amused. "I think it will be good for our Mister Beale to have some proper competition."

"I'm glad you're having fun, anyway." Callen made a face. "I just hope they don't kill each other."

"I'm certain you'll sort it out." She gave him a smile which would put any Cheshire cat to shame.

"Me?" He frowned at her. "This is definitely your doing, Hetty."

"Then consider it a challenge to you and your own development as well. How better to navigate the dynamics of your team than to provide you with more variables to, ahem, corral?"

She tipped her head to where Eric and Deeks were facing off against Sam and Nell in some sort of competition that appeared to involve smashing balloons into garbage cans. Kensi was aggressively ignoring them and appeared to be gathering her things to leave.

"Well." Callen gave her a smirk. "Since it's your birthday, I guess I'll let it pass this time."

"Oh, thank you." She said it with such insincere magnanimity, G couldn't help but laugh.

"In all seriousness, though." He met her eyes. "Happy birthday, Hetty." He saluted her with his drink. "A hundred years more of health, life, and joy."

"I don't know about a hundred years, but I'm grateful for the time I have. Thank you, Mister Callen." She returned the gesture with her own glass.


	5. S2E5: Little Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you need the reminder, at the end of this episode dealing with a missing girl who was buried alive, Sam has a bad case of poison ivy rash on his legs and up under his clothing. Hetty offers to put the lotion on him, and he and Callen bolt after she tells him to drop his pants.)

Hetty laughed as soon as she was sure the boys were out of the building. There was truly no quicker way to get them to do what needed to be done than to threaten to do it herself. Though, if Sam were unable to talk his partner into putting the lotion on his rash, he would have an interesting time at home tonight.

She smiled at what she had overheard, though.

" _Know what really scares me?_ "

" _You mean besides clowns?_ "

" _Losing my partner._ "

Sam Hanna had lost a man, had been helpless but to hear the last breaths of a SEAL who was willing to die to preserve his own life, and had not only remained open-hearted and brave and loyal; he willingly attached himself to another partner whom Hetty was fairly certain he loved like a brother. And G Callen loved him right back.

They were both such excellent men, such fine agents.

And, as she activated the cameras in the boathouse, so _very_ predictable.

Without warning, she remotely turned on the monitor at the table so they could see her from where they were on the couch in what would in any other circumstances look like _very_ compromising positions. Compromising, _suggestive_ positions.

"For agents as well-trained as yourselves," she said without preamble, "you certainly have made a rather rookie mistake."

"Hetty!" Sam grabbed for a towel and pulled it over himself. It barely helped cover his waist-down nakedness, and he managed to get lotion all over the towel in the process.

Callen sighed and shook his head. "Seriously? You can't leave the man in peace?"

"If you had accepted my help, I wouldn't now be forced to remind you to purge the security footage from the boathouse yourselves, unless you want Eric and Nell to see it," she pointed out.

"Hetty, come on." Sam was looking anywhere but at the monitor. "Can we _not_ do this right now?"

"Mister Callen?" She needed only ask in that particular way and he understood all she did not trouble to put into words. It was concern, and an offer to help, and the certainty of her respect for whatever he thought would be best for Sam.

G shook his head. "I've got this. And I'll take care of the footage. Okay? Leave the man whatever's left of his dignity."

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't have to say anything to get a faint flush to rise in his cheeks as he remembered exactly where his hands were in regards to his partner.

"Mister Hanna, take tomorrow off, please, so that you may recover at home. I recommend either cotton trousers or none at all."

"Hetty, please!"

"Mister Callen, I suggest you procure some additional towels for Mister Hanna to sit on for the ride home, or you'll never get the stains out of the seats."

"Got it. We good now?"

She smiled at his impatience. "Indeed." Then, making sure that G was looking at her, she said, "Thank you for taking care of your partner."

Callen ducked his head a bit. "That's what we do."

Hetty saw the rest of his answer in his face, of course, about how he was glad to know Sam's history, that he was grateful she hadn't told him so Sam could do it himself in his own time, how he took that knowledge quite seriously and saw it as a gift. All things he might have said if they were alone, but would never say in front of Sam himself. Especially as vulnerable as he was.

Sam made a noise of discomfort. "So can we get to doing it already? Seriously, G, speed it up, man."

" _Definitely_ remember to purge the surveillance," Hetty said, chuckling, "or be prepared to explain yourselves to Eric in the morning. And anyone else to whom he shows it before you can stop him."

"Ooh." Callen suddenly grinned. "But that's, like, two-way blackmail material. So, Sam, what's it worth to you for the whole office not to see this, _and_ not to have to deal with Eric's trauma?"

Hetty cut the feed before she could be drawn into their bickering.

But she did preserve a personal copy of the video before Callen got rid of it.

Just in case.


	6. S2E6: Standoff

Callen's phone rang almost the instant Sam finished putting the cuffs on Tracy.

"Mister Callen?"

"Yeah, we got her."

"Glad to hear it. You should have some company in approximately forty-five seconds."

G caught Sam's eye. "Incoming."

"Incoming what?" Sam asked.

Callen shrugged and gestured to his phone. "Who are we expecting, Hetty?"

"I arranged to have a team from the FBI standing by to take Miss Rosetti into custody as soon as you had made the arrest."

G wanted to argue that this was _his_ arrest, that _he_ should have the right to drag Tracy on the plane himself, that he didn't know if he really trusted these FBI guys after she had turned on them, that Tracy was and always had been his problem.

"Hetty…" he started.

"Not this time, Mister Callen," she cut him off sharply. "That woman has caused enough grief for us all and doubly for you. I will not allow her to be in any position to do so again. Hand her over and come home."

He sighed. That tone of voice meant she was serious – and if he crossed her now, he'd inexplicably end up with four times as much paperwork as usual for a week.

"Understood."

"Very good. Oh, and if you would convey a message to your partner for me?"

"Sure."

"Tell him to keep an eye on you."

"Hetty says hi," he told Sam.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said loud enough for Hetty to hear. "I got his back." He glared at Tracy. "Like a real partner."

"Some kinda boy scout you picked up, Callen," she said.

"Hey, get it right. I am a SEAL."

Callen turned his back on both of them.

"I will say this," Hetty said. "I am grateful to Miss Rosetti for precisely two reasons."

"Yeah? What are those?"

"First, up until her deplorable failure on your final mission together, she did keep you relatively safe while you were partners."

G could feel the light in Hetty's expression all the way from LA. "Yeah, but you don't really care about that. What's the second?"

"She instilled in you the same habits of bickering and levity which provided an opening for you when you were paired up with Mister Hanna."

He scowled at the phone. "I am _not_ giving her credit for that. I was good and witty all on my own."

"I'm glad you believe so, Mister Callen. Now, the FBI should be at your location. Please hand off your prisoner and return home. And do _not_ add to the expense of this trip any farther, if you please."

Callen looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Hetty says we should go out to dinner. Her treat."

"I said no such thing!"

"See you when we get back, Hetty!" And he hung up on her.

Sam's phone immediately started to ring.

"Don't answer that," Callen told him.

"Oh, I hate getting between you two when you start pulling her pigtails." Sam sighed.

"Excuse me. Agents Callen and Hanna?"

They turned to see the group of men gathered on the dock. The lead one held up his badge.

"We're here to take this person into custody?"

The phone in Sam's pocket stopped ringing.

As Sam handed Tracy over to them, he threw a smirk at Callen.

"First time I think I can actually say I've been saved by the FBI."

"Well, let's not waste it!" Callen grinned. "Dinner?"

"I'm going to pay for this, aren't I?" Sam asked. His phone dinged with a text, and he pulled it up. "Yes, apparently I am buying dinner. And Hetty definitely doesn't say hi back to you."

G laughed, and found he could walk away from Tracy this time without looking back.


	7. S2E7: Anonymous

"Your team did very well tonight."

Sam and Deeks were still re-hanging their tuxedos up _correctly –_ it was a skill Callen had learned from Hetty years ago, so he was finished much more quickly. When it came to all things Wardrobe, it was better just to do things her way than try to talk her out of it.

"They did," he said.

"How many hangers do you need for one suit? Seriously?" Deeks yelled from the alcove.

"You will do it properly or I'll come in there and do it for you!" Hetty threatened.

Then there was a whispered warning from Sam, and Hetty and Callen exchanged smiles.

"You were right, by the way," Callen said. He nodded at the alcove. "He does fit in."

"Indeed he does. And he took a real chance to day with that sarin gas."

"Yeah, but Kensi's still going to kill him."

Hetty gave him a sideways look. "Do you really think so?"

"Honestly? I can't tell." He huffed a laugh. "When we first met him, I kept teasing her about having a thing for him, and I still don't think I was wrong. It kinda depends on what happens the more they're teamed up together, I guess."

Hetty nodded. "Well, if it becomes a problem, I trust you will be able to handle it. In the end, I think this team has proven that it can get the job done and done well with very little support or lead time, and that is both rare and commendable."

"Coming from you, that means a lot," G said. "I didn't thank you, did I?"

"For?"

"For making this team. After Macy...well, it could have gone very differently."

"Perhaps." She shrugged at him. "But I choose to believe that you would have landed on your feet regardless, Mister Callen. I just...steadied the ground a little."

"Well, thanks for that, too."

"You're welcome."

"Hetty, I can't figure out how to hang these pants so the creases match up," Deeks said, sticking his head out from the curtain. "Can I just leave them here and you fix them later?"

"Absolutely not." She strode forward.

"Sam, we got incoming!" Deeks squeaked as he dove back into the alcove. "Gimme my pants, man! Now!"

"You haven't got anything I haven't seen before," Hetty said, sweeping aside the curtain. "In fact, let me tell you the story of how I snuck into an underground KGB bunker wearing nothing but a towel. Men truly are rather odd when it comes to their own nudity sometimes."

Sam and Deeks both looked past her to Callen with a wordless plea for help.

Callen cackled and decided now was a perfect time to beat a strategic retreat.


	8. S2E8: Bounty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's late in the evening, but at least it's the right day!
> 
> This set of chapters includes the first appearance of Mattias, and any episode in which he goes after Hetty and Callen has FEELINGS gives me all the feels in return, so these were very much fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

As Hetty unpacked her tea, which was _not_ the reason she sent two of her agents all the way to Afghanistan and she would swear it before the Secretary of Defense or the Joint Chiefs if she had to, she found a piece of paper wedged between two of the packets.

It was an email address.

She could, of course, go ask Agent Callen exactly what it was, but that wasn't how the game between them was played, after all.

While she set one cup of tea to steep, she turned on her laptop and opened one of the email addresses Eric had set up for her which was unofficial and untraceable. She composed a very short message indicating that she had received the email in a package.

The response came before she had finished enjoying her tea.

> " _The American who spoke Russian and his friend saved my life. The American sent me to someone who could help me get my family to safety, and he gave me money to pay their way. In return, he only asked that I send shipments of tea whenever I got an email. You are the American's friend who likes tea? I helped him pick what he bought. I do not even require money for this. Give me an address and I will send you all the tea you want for as long as you like. It is a small debt to repay for the safety of my family._ "

Hetty sat back and shook her head. Some things never changed; she dearly hoped they never would.

She replied at once.

> " _I have all the tea I require for now, but I shall gladly take you up on your offer when I run low. If you send me an address where I can reach you, I will also compensate you for your trouble. The one to whom you owe a debt would tell you that it is easier to let me reimburse you than to have him lording it over me. And if you need any other help for your family, you may use this email address to contact me. I will make no promises, but if there is a need, I am certain our mutual friend will have some ideas._ "

Then she sent a text to Callen.

"I don't recall authorizing a back-channel for tea delivery."

The response, when it came, made her laugh.

"The mission required a long setup, and I had some time to kill. And you're welcome."


	9. S2E9: Absolution

They were riding back to the office in separate cars, and to no one's surprise, Callen opted to ride in Hetty's with her, while Sam and Deeks took the bleeding Matthias to lockup and Kensi drove her own car. Callen sat quietly in the passenger seat, simply watching the road.

But Hetty knew the look of his shoulders, the way his sharp eyes roved over everything that moved and everything that didn't. He was still on guard.

He was still guarding _her_.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Mister Callen," she said eventually.

The break in the silence between them reverberated like a gunshot.

"And if I hadn't, we'd be seeing you again one piece at a time. No. No _way_. Not happening."

She shook her head at his clipped tone. "No matter how it must frustrate you, there will always be some things which I must handle in my own way. We all have a past, Mister Callen. And mine requires a certain amount of...intervention, in order to _keep_ it in the past."

"And I get that, Hetty. I really do. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you walk into the arms of a foreign operative without any backup." He drew in a breath and Hetty was surprised to hear a shake in it. "You can't ask me to do that."

She gentled her tone for him. "No, I suppose I can't." At the next red light, however, she looked across at him. "However, I also do not have to ask your permission to do my job. And you must accept that. You may not like it. But you will not prevent me from doing what we do. What _I_ taught _you_ to do."

He looked away and said nothing.

For all that he could fool any criminal with his undercover work, for all that his acting had saved his life hundreds or thousands of times, he could never hide the truth of himself from her. And not just because she had taught him – but because on some level, he never wished to keep her from him. Not when it mattered.

And now he was in pain, his fear and worry and protectiveness rolling off him like water.

Just before the light turned green, Hetty reached over to pat him on the arm. All other things being equal, she hated to see him suffering so.

"Thank you. For coming after me. It was foolish, and unnecessary, but I am grateful all the same."

"You're not in this alone, Hetty. You never will be, not as long as I'm alive."

And she heard the vow, the intensity of the promise that he made with his very soul, and she mourned it for all he could not know.

But the light turned green, and there was nothing to do but continue forward.


	10. S2E10: Deliverance

It wasn't breaking in if you had a key – or if you had made a copy of the key. That was what G told himself as he let himself into the house at Briar Patch.

It was well past midnight, but he expected Hetty was as wide awake as he was, if for different reasons.

Confronting Matthias had been deeply, darkly satisfying, and it had taken G a long drive to work off the rush it gave him. But after the last few days, playing shadow games with spies and agents, watching Hetty slip from him again and again only to be in danger over and over, losing Kensi, staring down a sniper – it had been pure relief to scare the hell out of the man who had threatened Hetty more times than Callen knew she would ever admit.

Hetty had told him not to be worried about Matthias. That, G knew, meant that he shouldn't worry because Matthias was no threat _to him_. But he _had_ been a threat to Hetty.

_Nobody_ threatened Hetty, not while Callen had anything to say about it.

He hadn't intended on taking the team with him. Ambushing Matthias, promising to destroy him if anything ever happened to Hetty, that was his to do. His duty, his debt, his honor to repay. But Sam caught him working on the necessary research – it wasn't the sort of thing he could outsource to Eric or Nell – and wouldn't leave him alone until he explained why he needed pictures of the man's wife and house and mistress and his bank statements. By the time Sam got the truth out of Callen, Kensi and Deeks were in on it.

For as long as he lived, G would never forget what they had said.

"So, what are we doing? Are we taking him out? Losing him off a short pier? What?"

Everyone had stared at Deeks.

He'd shrugged. "Guy's serious bad news and he has it out for Hetty. Tell me we're not doing nothing."

"We're not. I am." G had stood up to go.

"G." Sam had put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not the only one who wants to protect her. The only one who would kill to protect her."

"He needs to know that this doesn't go away even if he gets one of us," Kensi had said. "He needs to be scared of every shadow, thinking one of us could be in it." Then her eyes had narrowed. "And he did have his goons put me in that laser cage."

"You said it, partner." Sam's gaze had been pure steel and fury and undying loyalty. "Let's make sure that scum never comes near our team again."

What could he do but welcome their help?

The attack had been brutal and satisfying, and G Callen had meant every word of his threat with all his heart and soul. If anything ever happened to Hetty, G would be in the wind, hunting down Matthias and everyone like him. Anyone who might have raised a hand to her.

He would empty the world of Hetty's enemies, one by one, and never feel an instant of remorse.

Which was why he was at Briar Patch tonight. He couldn't not be near, not now. Not when he didn't even know how many times she had been threatened in the last few days. Not when there had been Russians and Matthias and who knows how many others circling Los Angeles like sharks, looking for the meal in the water.

And he didn't think Hetty should be alone after losing Cole, either. In the room with the body, when he had seen her standing by the window, for the first time in his life, Callen could have said she looked frail. He'd seen her tired, heartsick, even vulnerable. But never had her strength abandoned her as it did then. Never had she seemed so adrift and lost.

" _My marriage to Branston might be as close as I've ever gotten to the real thing._ "

No, G Callen could not leave her alone tonight. Not when she was grieving again. Not when there had been guns pointed at her, and he had been too far away to help.

Like the night Dom had been killed, he ascended the stairs quietly, but not silently. Hetty was upstairs this time, too, but the door was open.

"Mister Callen?"

He stepped into the pool of light cast by the reading lamp in her bedroom. Hetty was curled up in her squashy-looking chair with a fuzzy robe and slippers over a nightdress, The Red Badge of Courage in her lap.

G didn't really know what to say. He couldn't exactly admit that he had threatened Matthias to within an inch of his life, and had been dearly tempted to kill the man anyway. And he didn't want to bring up Branston Cole, not if it put that frailty back in Hetty's eyes again.

He glanced to the book.

She gave him a very small, knowing smile.

Yes, he guessed what it was. He wasn't even surprised anymore. Actually, it made sense that she would have taken possession of the book, and that she would never have revealed it to anyone, even for Kensi's life. Not if it was as dangerous as she claimed.

And G was privately grateful that it was in Hetty's hands and no one else's. If it could bring down governments, destroy lives, threaten war, then there wasn't another person on earth G trusted more than Hetty to guard it.

She had given him its secret in her office by nothing more than a look and a lifetime of unspoken understanding. And Callen knew that she had not shared the book's existence accidentally at all.

She would guard it – but if someday she could not, she would trust him to do so in her stead.

G stepped into the room. "I just thought…"

"I know what you thought, Mister Callen." But the old smile was back in the folds of her face again.

He gave a shrug.

"Sit down, if you please."

G cast about and finally found a low stool in front of a dressing table. He hauled it across the room and planted it beside where she sat. After a moment of just staring at her, at looking for what all her invisible signals would tell him, he settled in it and let himself lean against her chair.

"This won't take very long, and I daresay neither of us will be sleeping any time soon."

She opened the book, and it took every inch of discipline in G's body not to look at the dots, at the page numbers, not to try to find the patterns of information which could ruin the very world.

Hetty stopped and rested a hand on the first page.

"Do you know what true courage is, Mister Callen?"

He should have said something flippant, but he couldn't come up with anything that didn't feel false. Instead he said, "I think about you, and about Sam. You're the two bravest, strongest people I've ever known. If there's courage in the world, that's where I found it."

"Hmm." She closed her eyes. "Courage, Mister Callen, is not rushing ahead to prove oneself. It is holding still in the middle of a hurricane, and never giving way. Mister Hanna is very courageous, you are correct. Of myself, I don't really know." She opened her eyes and faced him. "But you, Mister Callen, you are the bravest person _I_ know."

He stared at her.

"Because you still dare to stand still in the howling storm, and more than that, you're willing to stand in a storm not of your own making. You would stand there in place of another, even if that storm were to dash you to bits. And you would never falter. I believe there's not a storm made in this world which could truly bring you down for good."

He swallowed. He wasn't certain he could make his voice work.

"I hope," and there was a tremble in her voice that she would never have allowed betray her in the office, but here in the warm-lit room it fell from her like a release, "that you never have cause to find out if your courage will stand you up through the kinds of storms I have seen. I know that it will, but I pray you never have to lead a life quite the way I have done."

He pushed through the lump in his throat to speak. "If I am ever half the person you are, Hetty, it will be _because_ of the life you lived. Not in spite of it."

She gave him a smile that was warm and still rather sad.

"I hope, Mister Callen, that you never have to find out." And she fixed her gaze on the book and began to read it aloud to him.

> " _The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscape changed from brown to green, the army awakened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise of rumors. It cast its eyes upon the roads, which were growing from long troughs of liquid mud to proper thoroughfares. A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army's feet; and at night, when the stream had become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile campfires set in the low brows of distant hills_ …"


	11. S2E11: Disorder

The first morning back in the office after Christmas, Callen left a basket with twenty scented candles on Hetty's desk in the office. Hetty was upstairs talking to Eric, and then she had to have a meeting with one of the logistics support team which left the poor man blubbering for an hour. By the time she returned to her desk, the air was filled with a heady mix of pine, lavender, sea breeze, and every other flower ever artificially reproduced.

Callen made himself scarce for another hour, just on principle.

But, because she was Hetty, she caught up with him somewhere he couldn't easily escape and effectively cornered him in the back hallway outside the burn room.

"Mister Callen, is there a _reason_ for the overabundance of waxen statuary on my desk?"

G smiled. "Well, I was thinking."

"Oh, this should be good." She crossed her arms. "And?"

"Well. I figured that you had that candle for two years before you gave it to me. Right?"

"I suppose."

"So, if you had more candles, you would have to spread out the distribution of the things over many Christmases and maybe birthdays." He rocked on his feet.

She didn't quite sigh, but he could see her exasperation anyway. "And your point is?"

G gave her the kind of grin that made him look like a boy.

"So, twenty candles, times a minimum of two years apiece, means I have at least forty more Christmases to look forward to your regifting habit."

Hetty couldn't have said if she was deeply touched or thoroughly galled at his sheer cheek. She shook her head at him, drew in a breath, and managed not to let her eyes get watery.

"Well." She turned to leave. "Then I shall not disappoint you."

"You never do, Hetty."

"Neither do you, Mister Callen. Neither do you."


	12. S2E12: Overwatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's entries are a little short, but the episodes are comparatively tame as well. Season 2 really had peaks and valleys, and this was one of the quieter runs before stuff gets loud. But there's still room for some fun!
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen climbed back down the wall, and even that took him longer than it took Hetty.

"How do you _do_ that?" he asked.

"Most people assume climbing is about size. That being taller is an advantage. And it is – if you lack creativity. But to be smaller means I have less mass to move, and I can take more risks."

He ran an arm over his forehead, but the sweat continued to rain down in rivulets anyway. "You were swinging from those holds like a monkey."

"I'll thank you not to repeat that analogy ever again, Mister Callen." But she smiled. He noted that she looked barely out of breath, and not at all sweaty. "Next week, I'll take you out climbing on some real rocks and we'll see what you can do."

"Is that really necessary?"

"It is if you ever have to climb anything for a mission," she returned. "Such as a fence. Or a wall. Or if you are working on a case in a remote location. Or…"

"I get it, I get it. Fine. Saturday morning?"

"I'll expect you at 8am."

"Deal." He started for the locker room, but stopped and turned back. "Are you ever going to stop schooling me, Hetty?"

"I wasn't planning on it, no. And as I did win our bet, I expect you to hold up your end of our bargain, or you will not enjoy Saturday one bit." The threat in her eyes was very real.

He laughed. "Then I guess I better do those evaluations."

"Indeed. Oh, and Mister Callen?"

"Yeah?"

"While I do require you to be more critical in your assessments of your team...I very much understand your desire to mark them perfectly. They are…"

And she simply shook her head.

Callen nodded. "Yeah. They are."


	13. S2E13: Archangel

Hetty found Callen in the office after midnight, sitting alone in the Ops center, scrolling through the names of the dead.

"Are you all right, Mister Callen?"

"Fine."

She approached slowly. Sitting on the stool, feet out in front of him, shoulders hunched, he looked so much younger than his true age. She could see the teenager hovering inside the man. "Are you quite certain?"

"Yeah."

"Then I question why you are looking at photographs of fallen soldiers in the middle of the night."

"It's just...Sam said that Driscoll wanted them to have names. Not to be numbers or statistics anymore."

Hetty nodded and waited.

"So...I was thinking about something you said once. About the number of skeletons in our closets. And...I'll never know all their names. The people I killed. I'm...not even sure I could tell you how many there have been."

Hetty put a hand on his shoulder. But she did not interrupt him yet. The cadence of his revelations was always the same. He peered at the pictures for a few more moments, then cleared his throat.

"I thought...maybe I should learn these names instead."

"I see." Hetty cleared her throat.

"But...even if I remember them...it isn't really the same. It's...they deserve to be remembered, but it doesn't make up for the people I took away."

"I won't argue the point, though I personally don't agree. However, if it helps, I would suggest you consider a different list altogether."

Callen looked at her and his eyes were too bright, and too close to brittleness for her liking.

She gave him a tiny smile. "You'll find it in the system under the name George Bailey."

"George...is that a movie reference?"

"Indeed. _It's a Wonderful Life_."

He almost managed a smirk. "I think I've seen that movie. So, what is it?"

"A list, Mister Callen. Of every person I could find who is alive today because of your actions. Not a general list, not the population of LA, but specific individuals who have been protected because of your work. And it is a very, very long list."

She gave his shoulder a shake.

"Memorize those names, and let them be your star to guide you. We can't change the past. We can't do anything for the dead. But the living...those are the ones we must remember. They are the ones who make what we do worthwhile."

Callen shut his eyes and the haunted expression faded from his face.

"Thank you, Hetty."

"You're welcome."

But before she could go, he stood. "Do you have a list like that?"

"Not precisely."

He could read in her tone of voice that she had her own reasons for her answer, and didn't want to get into them, so he simply said, "If you ever make one?"

"Yes?"

"Put my name at the top of it."


	14. S2E14: Lockup

After Moe's death, Hetty left Callen a single message reminding him that it had been 48 hours and he was needed.

He didn't call her back for another twelve hours, so she called again. And left another message:

"Mister Callen. Even if you believe you need more time, I order you to check in. Some things have transpired and your team needs your help. Do not make me send them after you."

He called her back four hours later.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, Mister Callen." She sighed and explained about the prison and Moe. She told him how Sam was grieving, and how he was overworked and handling it very much on his own.

Callen was too quiet on the other end of the line.

"Can your investigation not wait?" she asked.

"I…" He sounded so unsure. "I don't want this to be for nothing."

"But if your team continues to struggle without you, then anything you find may well not be worth the price you pay to attain it."

"I know. I know."

"Do you, Mister Callen?" She dared raise her voice a little. "You are the leader of his team. That is not a ceremonial position. You are also the rock they all stand on, their unmoving point in the storm."

"No, that's you, Hetty. I'm just the guy with the gun who goes in first."

"You are very much mistaken if you think so." She shook her head even though he couldn't see it. "Come back, Mister Callen. Your partner needs you, and not just because of Moe."

"I will," and she could hear the promise in it, "but not yet. Just...give me a little more time."

Hetty knew she could order him back, and he would come, but she sighed instead.

"Two more days, Mister Callen. And then I want you back on the job."

"Thank you, Hetty."

"But there is one condition."

"What?"

"You will check in with me every six hours for the next two days. I don't like not knowing what my agents are up to."

He chuckled. "Fine. Talk to you later, then."

After he hung up, Hetty stared at her phone. The great problem of looking after G Callen was that he made it very difficult for anyone to help him sometimes. He could help others almost effortlessly, almost tirelessly, but at times it took a miracle to get him to accept help in return. Sam could manage it, and Kensi now and again, but Hetty's help was more complicated.

She had been helping him for so long, he felt it was a debt that he had to repay, and he instinctively shied away from making the debt any deeper. To say nothing of his entirely misplaced but ardent desire to protect her or "not bother" her.

"Two days, Mister Callen," she said under her breath. "And then I bring you in myself."


	15. S2E15: Tin Soldiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few tense episodes right in a row here. As always, such fun to write, even if I'm sure they weren't much fun for our dear characters!
> 
> I just want to say, I so very much appreciate every one of you who reads this story. Because there are so many individual chapters, I'm going to stop trying to respond to comments that are just "nice!" or "I liked it, thanks!" Not because I don't appreciate each and every one of you, but because I'll never keep up that way! If you write me something that has more meat to it than that, I'll be all over it, though.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I looked up that plant."

Hetty poured a cup of tea, handing it over without looking behind her as if she had expected to find Callen suddenly standing at her desk an hour before anyone else arrived at the office.

"Yes?"

"It doesn't need soil, and it doesn't have roots, but it does grow on something."

She raised an eyebrow at him before turning away to pour her own cup of tea. "Nothing comes from nothing, Mister Callen."

"Yeah, but these epiphytes...they grow on other plants. And they take their strength from them. They _can_ grow without much of anything at all, but they really only thrive in the presence of something else to hold them up."

Hetty smiled, then banished it before she turned fully around.

"Do I sense a point in this botany lesson?"

Callen looked into his teacup for a moment. "I guess...I just wanted to say sorry. I know you want to help me figure out my past. And...I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to find it and write you out of it."

Hetty knew that such an admission cost him dearly. "Oh, Mister Callen, I have no fears about that." She moved around him to sit in her chair. "And I do appreciate your apology."

He followed, settling into the seat across from her. "I'll say something to the team, too."

She nodded. "You should. If, as you say, you grow better when held up, it is important that you realize that I am not the only thing holding you up anymore. I may not even be the most important thing."

Callen made a tiny smile. "But you were the first. That always counts for something."

"And I shall be here until the end," she told him. "But now, it is time to make sure your team is strong enough for all of you."

"When they get here," he said, nodding at the empty bullpen.

"Obviously."

"Oh, and Hetty?"

She sipped her tea and waited.

"I'm glad you're here, too."


	16. S2E16: Empty Quiver

They didn't talk about it. It was exactly the sort of thing they ought to talk about, but every time they shared that look, they backed away.

Because it was a discussion that had been had too many times, and there simply was no resolution to it.

Hetty would protect G Callen, always. He knew this. He'd known it since he was fifteen years old. She would play the politics game, would shield him from blame in missions that went wrong, and now that she was his Ops Manager, it was far easier for her to do so without having to pull favors the way she had when he had been on other assignments for other agencies.

All she asked in return was for his trust.

Trust was not hard for him to give Hetty. He trusted her more than he trusted himself most days. He trusted her to do what she thought was right, and he trusted her to be right more often than anyone else he knew. He trusted her to have his back, and he trusted her to take care of his team.

But the one thing he could not trust Hetty to do was to take care of _herself_ , especially if it meant putting him in danger. Because every time blame got thrown around, every time someone was called on the carpet, Hetty had made it her job to stand at the center of attention, and kept Callen from sharing that sort of attack. Just like she met Matthias alone, when he would have gladly gone with her to guard her.

G Callen could trust Hetty with his life, but he had trouble trusting her with her own.

And that was their stalemate. Because Hetty trusted Callen to do the right thing, to make the best possible call, and to find a way to win the unwinnable situation, to succeed where success should be impossible. But she did not trust him to protect himself if he was too busy trying to protect her.

" _I don't need your protection. I need your trust!_ "

" _And I need your help._ "

It was the constant struggle between them. Trust and protection.

They both trusted each other. And they would both protect each other.

And they both thought the other would do so at the expense of the other.

And they were both correct.

So they exchanged a measured, knowing look, and said nothing.

Because Hetty did trust Callen, and Callen trusted Hetty. And Hetty would risk anything to protect Callen, and Callen would risk anything to protect Hetty. And neither one of them would ever stand down that protection.

And they both hoped that they would never be called to choose between trust and protection, or between either of those things and their job. Because if they ever had to decide between the safety of the nation and the safety of one another – well, both would make the only decision that could be made, but it would haunt them for the rest of their lives.


	17. S2E17: Personal

Hetty was not surprised to see Callen waiting out in the hall when she finally left Deeks to sleep.

"He's really one of us now, isn't he?" he asked.

"Indeed."

Hetty moved to the nurses' station and waited for someone to notice her. And she did not kick Callen when he smirked at how very close the edge of the counter came to her nose.

"Can I help you?" one of the nurses asked.

"I've just finished speaking to Mister Deeks," Hetty said. "He has given me his consent to update his next-of-kin registry on his behalf, please."

"Oh?"

"Mister Deeks is without family he can claim at this time, so I would like to put down my information."

Beside her, Callen cleared his throat. "Actually, put me down, too."

Hetty gave him an appraising look.

Callen shrugged. "What? You said it. Agents become family."

"I said it to Sam. You were still off chasing shadows." She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I heard about it from Sam. At length. And he was right. And you were right." Callen looked back to the nurse. "So put me down, too."

The nurse smiled at them both. "I'll just grab the paperwork."

Hetty waited until she was out of earshot. "And what name will you give them, Mister Callen? Which alias?"

"No alias. Just me."

"Ah." Hetty gave him a very satisfied smile. "I am thoroughly glad to hear it."


	18. S2E18: Harm's Way

"What do you think of orange?"

Hetty sighed at the text. She had been expecting it, of course, but still. It irked that her agent could be up to his neck in danger, his partner moreso, and he was still taking time for such frivolity. She knew he was doing it while playing up his cover, but still.

"No," she replied. "Status?"

"All good."

"Stay focused."

"What do you think about pink and gold?"

"Focused."

"Don't worry. I am."

But she did worry.

A few hours later, there was another text.

"What do you think about yellow?"

She sighed. "Depends on the exact shade of yellow."

"Nate says it's a good yellow."

"I trust Nate's sense of color far more than yours."

"I'll be sure to tell him that."

"Be sure to take care of your partner." She considered using all-caps, just to emphasize the point, but she trusted he would understand it.

The text that returned made her smile. "Always."

The final set of texts came when she knew her agents were already on the way home.

"I think you're gonna like what we picked out."

She sighed. "I await it with some trepidation."

"Nate wrote up an analysis of colors for me. It's four pages long."

"I am now more concerned than ever." She could almost sense him laughing as he read her answer.

"Sam says it will bring out your eyes."

Hetty sighed. "If you are mocking me, I will bring out my knives."

Both futahs Callen brought back were lovely, and the hand-written notes from Nate were detailed and oddly charming.

Hetty had expected nothing less.


	19. S2E19: Enemy Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late, but I made it!
> 
> Here are some more simple ones before the epic roller-coaster that was the end of Season 2!
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen wandered into Hetty's office. "I see why you let Nell stick around."

She smiled. "Miss Jones does have rather an arsenal of intellectual arms to launch against any unwitting foes."

"It's not just that." He smirked. "I think you see a lot of yourself in her."

"Whatever gives you that impression?"

"Well, she's smart, dedicated, fierce under fire, something about a lack of social niceties…" He trailed off, waving a hand.

Hetty frowned at him. "I dare you to try saying that again, Mister Callen."

That made him smile even more, and he opted not to rise to the bait. "But there's a difference between the two of you."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Nell walks in the light."

"Ah." She nodded. "Yes. Miss Jones has many of the skills of an agent, but she does not dwell in the shadows like you and I."

"And that's why you took her on. Isn't it?" His face lit up in understanding. "Not just because she's good enough to be an agent, but because you know what she'll have to go through in order to do it. You're giving her the chance to learn with a safety net. So she can decide for herself if she wants to take a turn in the dark, or if she is better off staying where she is."

Hetty flinched but did not deny it. "I wish that no one would have to make such a choice, but that is not the world in which we live."

Callen let out a breath. "If I had to lay money, I'd say Nell isn't cut out to walk in your exact footsteps...but I could see her stepping into your shoes someday."

Hetty dipped her head to him. "Perhaps. She's still young and has a great deal to learn. But...someday. I suppose we shall see."

"Yeah, but in the meantime," G smirked, "we should send her some tougher targets. She made dog food out of that bureaucratic waste of skin. Do you know if North Korea can spare anybody for a few days?"

Hetty smiled.


	20. S2E20: The Job

"Out of curiosity," Callen said, peering at the pillar at the edge of Hetty's office, "did anybody actually _fix_ this building? Or are we the next big shake, rattle, and roll away from needing a new office?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'fix,' Mister Callen," she replied, setting aside some papers.

"Okay, that's not encouraging." He eyed her. "Was Kensi onto something with this earthquake kit thing? Do I need to buy you a helmet?"

Now Hetty glared at him. "Try it, and you'll not like where I wedge it."

G laughed. "So...the building is safe, then?"

"In a manner of speaking. Most of the spaces where personnel tend to congregate have been reinforced, and the greatest existing structural damage has been corrected."

"But...does that mean it's still going to come down on our heads when the big one comes?"

"Let's just say that you would do well to be either up in Ops or here in my office if it does."

"No love for the bullpen." Callen crossed his arms. Then he glanced around. "Wait. How exactly did you make this little cottage earthquake-proof? It barely has a roof."

Hetty smiled. "Some clever engineering, and a number of people who owed me favors."

G shook his head, then grinned. "I'm still gonna buy you that helmet."

"Please don't trouble yourself." She sighed.

"Do you think you're more a youth size, or should I go straight for the kids' football section?"

At the expression on her face, Callen bolted from her office and made himself scarce until Hetty's rage subsided to less-than-8.5 levels on the danger scale.


	21. S2E21: Rocket Man

"I owe you an apology."

Callen had been aware of the fact that Hetty was still in the office – he could have told exactly who was left in the building, and where they were, and how long they would likely remain at any moment. He'd spent enough nights there to know them all, their footsteps and their habits. But he had expected Hetty to enter the empty bullpen except perhaps to say good night and to remind him not to sleep on the couch again.

"What for?"

"I should have asked you to keep an eye on Mister Beale yesterday."

"Hetty, no." G shook his head. "First of all, I was the lead agent on the ground, not you. It should have been me sending someone to watch his back. Secondly, we really didn't expect anyone to try frying someone alive a second time."

"An agent who doesn't expect someone to try to kill them every instant is an agent who won't live very long and you know it." She frowned. "Mister Beale had never been in the field, and for his first excursion, I left him unguarded."

" _I_ left him unguarded," Callen said. "I could have sent any one of us to be his overwatch, but I didn't."

"And he could have died. If he hadn't been in contact with Miss Jones, you would have found a body when you went looking for your teammate."

Callen was confused. "So...are you actually mad at yourself, or at me? Just so we're clear who's getting the lecture here."

"I believe I am upset with both of us. I assumed he would be safe, and so did you. And that is an assumption we can make with Kensi or Sam or even Detective Deeks, because all of you can operate independently and without direct overwatch support. It was sloppy of us both."

"Yes, it was." G met her eyes. "It won't happen again."

"Unfortunately, it might. That, too, is the nature of our work."

"Okay. So...why are you apologizing to me, then?"

"Because you may refuse to acknowledge it, Mister Callen, but I know you well enough to know when you are troubled."

He opened his mouth to object, but shut it again at her expression. He sighed.

"He could have been hurt. Even if we got him out before it killed him, he could have been seriously... That kind of cold or heat could have damaged his hands, or his eyes. And then we wouldn't just have gotten him hurt – we'd have destroyed his career. His entire identity."

"He isn't entirely helpless, however," Hetty said.

"I know. Nell reminded me." Callen shook his head. "But he should never have been in that position."

"However, we put him there." Hetty glanced down at her hands. "And the truth is that we would do it again."

Callen hated that he could only nod.

"And so I owe you an apology, Mister Callen. This is your team, your agents, who have become far more than just people you work with. And yesterday a friend, perhaps even a member of your family, was in danger – and I did not fully anticipate it, nor did I prevent it. I have already apologized to Mister Beale as well."

"What'd he say?"

"He told me not to 'sweat it' and that he was 'all good' and it was nothing a round of his computer games would not relieve."

G smiled. "I guess Nell was right, then. He really is more resilient than we realize."

"We all are. That's why we're here." She turned to go.

"Still not your fault," Callen said after her.

She looked back at him. "Nor yours. But, in the end, everything that happens here rests on our shoulders, Mister Callen. So I suppose we must share this blame as well as our success."

"There's nobody I'd rather share that burden with than you." He turned back to his paperwork, but a smile tugged at his mouth.

"Thank you, Mister Callen. Good night."

"Good night, Hetty."


	22. S2E22: Plan B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go with te big ending of season 2 and the start of season 3! Did anybody else, upon the first watch-through, find their heart lodged in their throat during those episodes? Because eeeesh.
> 
> One funny one to begin, because I thought we all might need it. And then all the feels. Just lots of all the feels.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty knew it was almost certainly a bad idea to let Callen and Sam serve as the 'execution squad' for Ray on the courthouse steps. Not because they couldn't handle it, of course, but because any time one combined Agent Callen with realistic firearms loaded with blood-pack rounds, he would shortly thereafter become utterly distracted by a related inclination.

_Not_ , thankfully, to feign being shot himself – he had learned very early on that such was not worth the momentary humor. Callen had flinched at the very sight of blood-packs for six months after the one time he tried it in her presence.

"What do you think?" he asked the morning after Ray was safely away – again. "Wanna give it a shot?"

Hetty didn't even look up from her tea. "No."

"Aw, come on. It's been, what? A year?"

"Ten months, Mister Callen."

"Way too long."

She still didn't look up. If she was drawn in by that teasing grin, she would lose the battle, and she had far too much work to do to allow herself to be defeated now.

"I'll buy your next sack of tea from China."

In spite of herself, she found herself glaring at him. "Oh, that is a low blow."

He was practically rocking on his feet, bouncing and gleeful.

"You _know_ you wanna try to kick my ass again, Hetty."

"Mister Callen, if we do this, I shall indeed, as you say, kick your ass. As I have every other time I have given into this ridiculous request of yours."

"Ha!" He planted his hands on his hips. "Not every time. I distinctly remember painting you red at least once."

"You must have been concussed by all the headshots I made against you that day." A moment later, she realized she had lost.

_Bugger, that boy is good._

And he knew it, too. Callen's grin went downright wicked. "Come on. I'll clear out the gym, you get the gear."

She let out an enormous sigh, rose slowly, and faced him with every bit of dignity she could manage. "I hope you have an appropriate change of clothes in your locker, Agent Callen."

"Do _you_?"

"You won't need to find out."

Callen laughed and strode off with a skip in his step to the gymnasium. Even before she reached the armory, she could hear him yelling.

"Everybody out! It's a red letter day!"

"What does that mean?" Deeks asked Kensi as Hetty went by.

"Hetty." Sam fell into step beside her. "He seriously talked you into doing this _again_?"

"What can I say, Mister Hanna? Mister Callen can be very persuasive."

"You want me to lay any money for you?"

"No, thank you. But please do encourage the usual stakes if you would." She gave him a small smile before settling into the work of loading the weapons with the blood-pack balls. "Oh, and give Detective Deeks a fair warning so he may make an _informed_ decision."

"Aw, killing all our fun." But he was teasing and she knew it.

Hetty snapped the cartridge in and met his eyes. "No. Killing your partner, I believe."

"I heard that, Hetty!" Callen yelled from the door.

"Oh, good. Now you can check your own weapon before I remind you why your desire to bait me will always land you in trouble."

An hour later, more than half of the gymnasium was covered in fake blood, the office needed to completely replace their blood-pack supplies, and Callen had enough artificial streaming wounds on his body to have bled out several times over.

And Hetty was still pristine head to foot, without so much as a splash of blood on her shoes.

Half the office, the half who had bet correctly, was rewarded with a fair sum of cash. The other half, and Callen, found themselves spending the rest of the morning glaring at their smug coworkers, swearing, and cleaning the entire gym top to bottom.

And when they were done, Hetty poured Callen a cup of tea and reviewed the entire competition, shot by shot, and pointed out every single move he had made that could be improved.

"Do they do this often?" Deeks asked quietly, but not quietly enough.

"About once a year," Kensi said.

"It's weird, though, right? I mean, paintball with _Hetty_? Who even came up with that idea?"

"Who knows?" Sam answered. "Some things have no explanation. _Especially_ those two."

And Callen and Hetty just exchanged knowing looks.


	23. S2E23: Imposters

He should have been listening. She had practically told him she was leaving. Every single sign had been there for him to spot, but the case had kept him from seeing it.

She had been avoiding him.

She had set up the pieces to play the game in her absence.

She had given him the advice to guide him in filling the hole she would leave behind.

And then she was gone.

_Damn it all to hell._

He had seen it in her face. Her speech about leadership had been a ruse to keep him distracted, to keep him _feeling_ when he should be _thinking_.

She hadn't even said goodbye.

And now there was a woman calling Hetty's desk her own, whom Callen couldn't even stand to look at. Not right now, with Director Vance saying a whole lot of nothing.

He kept thinking about the silences where there should have been answers.

The excuses where there should have been reassurances.

The practical advice where there should have been wisdom.

He and Hetty had always spoken a hundred languages to each other in perfect quiet, had mastered a hundred ways of communicating all the things that could not be said. But now, when it mattered most, Hetty had not uttered a word in any of them.

Well, this silence was something he could not stand. Would not.

He lost track of how many messages he left her between leaving the office and making his way to two of the houses he thought her most likely to use – the two he thought she didn't realize he knew about. But the messages were all the same, even if the words changed. The meaning, and the desperation he couldn't keep out of his voice, was there.

"Hetty. It's me. You have to tell me what's going on. You _have_ to."

"Look, I know you didn't do this without good reason. I know you wouldn't just leave. I _know_ you. And you know me."

"Hetty, this all looks like...like you're not coming back. And you can't...you can't do that. Whatever this is, you _have_ to come back from it."

"I told you I would follow you. And I will. Just tell me where. Tell me where and I'll be there. Don't...don't do this. Not alone."

"Hetty. Please. Just...please."


	24. S2E24: Familia

The silence was always the worst part of the job. The running, the shooting, the games of war, the tricks of the trade, these came and went in the blink of an eye and the rush of adrenaline.

But waiting in the silence for the next shot to ring out – that was the worst part.

Hetty tried to appreciate the silence while she could as she sat drinking tea around a table with a dead body to either side. It wasn't even the most grotesque circumstances under which she had sat to drink tea – though it might have been some of the most grotesque tea she'd ever sipped. Apparently the lower-ranked among the Comescu did not receive the type of cultural education to appreciate the difference between real tea and this thin leaf water.

The next Comescu to show up would be better-mannered, and more important. And he or she would lead her to her final goal. This message was one of blood, another stain on her hands that were black with the uncountable deaths from her past.

Even her own death would not wipe out the stain.

Though Hetty was in no hurry to die, she thought it likely that there was little or no other option. The Comescu head of the family might believe her that Callen was dead and kill her anyway. The head of the family might not believe her, and then she would be dead only after they attempted to torture his information from her.

If it came to that, Hetty was well ready to do whatever it took to end her own life before she could betray his. If it was the last act she could make for him, she would do it and gladly.

She hoped they would come soon. If she knew her agents, and she certainly did, it was only a matter of time before G Callen and his team pieced together enough information to follow her. Director Vance and Agent Hunter would stall, would deceive, would order them to stand down – but Hetty knew there would be blood on the floor before her team would stop coming for her.

She wanted this over before that happened. Win, lose, or draw, as it were – as long as the feud ended, as long as Callen could live free of the shadow of the Comescus' reach, she would be satisfied.

She hoped she was dead and cold before they even thought to leave Los Angeles.

Hetty sipped at the awful tea, no longer caring that it turned her stomach.

She had many, many regrets in her life. Chiefly amongst them now was that she had not said goodbye to any of them. Not to Eric and Nell, who had worked with her so diligently and loyally. Not to Deeks and Kensi, who were still finding their way. Not to Sam, in whose hands she must trust the boy she had raised. Not even to Lauren, who would be facing this alone, not revealing to the team her own place in the game. Not to any of the ones who mattered, wherever they were.

And she had not said goodbye to Callen.

Her death would be a terrible blow to him, she knew. She had always known that his world was made stable only by the steady presence of a few – herself and Sam, primarily. For months she had watched those two, had pushed them, had even tested them, to be sure that they were solid, their foundation unbroken and unbreakable. It would keep Callen alive when she was gone.

Of all the things she had said to him, the things she had not said mattered the most. She had never told him the truth. About himself, about her, about his past or his family. And she had never told him how very dearly she cared for him.

If all went well, she never would.

That silence between them would stretch to eternity.

But it was all she could do, and so she marched into that dark fate with her head up and her conscience clear. She would die, of course she would, but he would live and he would be safe, and at last she would have made her amends to the woman she could not save.

So she waited in the silence for the Comescus to come, and it was the worst wait of her life.


End file.
